


Map Room

by caritivereflection



Series: 50 Ways to Get Laid in the Glade [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caritivereflection/pseuds/caritivereflection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt finds Minho in a compromised position and takes advantage of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Map Room

It was the third night in a row that Minho stayed late in the Map Room. Newt wouldn’t have cared, except for the fact that his friend promised him a round of cards, and the blond wasn’t about to make the mistake of playing Alby again. So, as the rest of the Glade settled down for the night, Newt made his way to the Map Room.

Only to find Minho, head back, eyes closed, and cock out. He was biting his lip as his hand moved up and down in a steady rhythm.

“Wow,” was all Newt could say, because of the sight before him and the dream come true of finally seeing it.

Minho’s head snapped up and his hand stilled, before both hands flew to cover his sex.

Newt couldn’t remember ever seeing the Asian boy blush before. Not once, even when the “do you remember how girls…” conversations turned perverse. And now, he didn’t just blush. He went beet red, the color spread from his cheeks to his ears, forehead, and neck.

“Shuck, Newt!” Minho said, fumbling to tuck himself back into his trousers. It didn’t work so well, since he’d had to pull his trousers and the tight Runnie Undies down enough to get to his dick, which was still standing at attention. “Y-you’re supposed to be… I thought I told you to go relax.”

“You also told me you were game for cards,” Newt said. He smirked, then leaned casually against the wall. He had the advantage here, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to turn it in his favor. “And instead… well, I guess  _you’re_  relaxing, huh?”

“Newt…” Minho said. The blond was pretty sure he meant it as a warning, but it sounded more like a plea.

“This what you been doin’ in here the last three days?” Newt took a step forward. “And I thought you were studyin’ the bloody maps.”

Another step, and another. Minho pressed himself back into the chair as Newt got closer. Mere feet separated them now, and Minho didn’t take his wide, embarrassed eyes off of Newt’s face. For that, Newt was glad, because if he’d looked down, he would have seen the bulge in Newt’s trousers that betrayed his intentions. 

“Ya know, if you were this frustrated,” Newt said, drawing the words out and pausing to lick his lips. He let his gaze move from Minho’s half covered crotch, up his body to his lips and flushed face, then met his eyes. He leaned forward, using the armrests of the chair for support. “You coulda asked.”

Minho froze. He stopped trying to shove his manhood into his trousers, and for a moment even his rapid breathing (Panic? Arousal?  _Both_? Newt only felt a little guilty for hoping it was both) ceased.

The Keeper’s breathing restarted, and he licked his lips.

“Really?”

“Really,” Newt said, then sank to his knees. As he kneeled, Minho’s breath caught, smaller than a gasp but oh so loud in the room.

He grabbed Minho’s wrist, and then the other, pulling his hands away from his groin. Minho didn’t stop him, just let Newt place his hands on the armrests before gripping them tightly with his fingers. 

Newt locked their eyes before wrapping his fingers around Minho’s cock. The Keeper gasped as his head snapped back. After a few strokes, he let out a low moan, but seemed to regain enough composure to lift his head and pay attention to what Newt was doing.

Maybe he just got off on watching.

“Feels better than when you do it yourself, doesn’t it?” Newt said

“Y-yeah,” Minho said between breaths. Newt felt his own cock twitch at the other Runner’s voice. There was something insanely arousing about watching the cool, calm, and collected exterior that the Asian boy so often exuded come crashing down. And it was all because of Newt—the stuttering, the blushing… all things Minho would never normally allow anyone to see, things that Newt got a front row ticket to tonight. 

Some of the boys had no shame, just whipped it out and did their business in their sleeping bags, not caring who heard.

Newt didn’t care, didn’t judge, but he himself liked a little privacy. Maybe that’s why Minho’d hidden away in here to take care of those urges. 

It made this stolen moment all the better.

As he continued stroking the brunet, Newt wished he could slip the trousers and underwear down more so he could feel and caress Minho’s balls, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment with fumbling. He’d thought about this for too long to risk that. Hell, half (more than, if he was honest) of his own masturbatory fantasies were filled with moments like this, where he stumbled in on Minho (or Minho stumbled in on him), and the Keeper let Newt have his way.

Minho’s breathing was rapid now, his exhales punctuated with little moans and whimpers, the skin of his forehead slick with sweat, his cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason. His fingers clawed for purchase on the tattered armrests, and Newt wondered what it would be like to have those hands on him, buried in his hair or petting his back or on his cock. At the moment, he’d take any of those.

As close as Minho looked to finishing, Newt wasn’t done. He’d planned for this moment too much to let it end simply. He was going to make an impression, give Minho a reason to come back for more.

He leaned forward and took the head of the Keeper’s cock in his mouth, flattening his tongue on it before flicking it over the slit. Minho let out the loudest moan yet, and Newt was torn between being glad that the walls of the Map Room were so thick and angry that the entire Glade couldn’t hear how he made Minho fall apart like this.

Of course, with any fantasy, reality was different. Minho didn’t taste like he’d imagined. Not bad, but saltier, and his jaw was already starting to ache as he fought to keep his teeth from grazing the sensitive flesh. Fortunately, it seemed that Minho was even closer now. One of his hands left the armrest and rested on the back of Newt’s neck, fingers twisting themselves into the long strands of hair. Newt bobbed his head, taking in as much of Minho’s cock as he could before pulling back and sucking on the head.

Minho started to move his hips, tiny little trusts that Newt put an end to by grabbing his hips and pining them to the chair. The Keeper let out a long, keening sound, his hips twitching with the desire to trust.

“Shuck… I… Newt, I’m,” Minho said, the words stilted between whimpers and moans. Newt understood, and he redoubled his efforts, bobbing faster and sucking harder, moving one of his hands to the base of Minho’s cock and stroking.

In a few seconds, it was all over. Minho thrust up, only partially stopped by Newt’s hand, and his entire body shook as he came, shooting a rope of thick, salty semen into the blond’s mouth. 

Newt suckled on the tip as Minho rode out his orgasm, hips and cock and fingers twitching at random intervals, his breath stopping altogether and then coming in and out in heaving gasps. Newt only stopped when Minho found his shoulder and pushed him away. He let go of the brunet’s cock with a final lick.

He leaned back and moved his hands to Minho’s thighs, idly stroking the clothed flesh with his fingers. Minho was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, and Newt savored the look he gave him, like he’d just revolutionized the Keeper’s world.

“Where…” Minho began, but he looked lost as he sought out a question. “How… shuck. That. Shuck.”

“Mmhmm,” Newt hummed. He could still feel his own hard-on straining against the inside of his Runnie-Undies, but he’d worry about that later. Minho was what was important now. “Better than when you do it by yourself?”

“Much,” Minho said. He looked at Newt, then blushed and glanced away. He shifted, lifting his hips from the chair and pulling up his trousers and underwear, tucking away his dick with a wince. “Look, Newt…”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Newt said. He rose from his kneeling position and he didn’t miss how Minho’s eyes locked on the bulge in his trousers. There wasn’t much use pretending it didn’t exist.

“I won’t. Not about this and…” Newt bit his lip, readying himself for the ‘no’ that was to come. “And not about any other time, either. I mean… if you want.”

“I… Newt that was amazing. Shuckin’ amazing, and… I’d like there to be other times,” Minho said, not know how Newt’s heart soared at the words. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Minho nodded toward the bulge in Newt’s trousers. “You let me return the favor.”

Newt grinned. He could live with that.


End file.
